"'Last night, and this morning as well, I have been unable to drive that poor boy of Madame Bastien's out of my mind. You know, Pierre, that I am rarely deceived in the deductions I draw from certain physiognomies, and what I saw yesterday and what occurred during the passing of the hunting party alike convince me that Madame Bastien's son feels a deadly hatred for the young Marquis de Pont Brillant.'" Marie, astonished by the justice of this observation, and overcome by her recollection of the terrors of the evening, buried her face in her hands, and began to sob wildly. "Great Heavens! what is the matter?" cried the doctor. "Ah, that is only too true. It is hatred, an implacable hatred, that he feels. But who wrote this letter?" "My best friend, the most generous and noble-hearted man in the world. You remember meeting a stranger at my house on St. Hubert's Day, do you not?" "The gentleman my son treated so rudely?" "The same; but pray go on with the letter." "'I have not endeavoured to discover the cause of this animosity, but daily association with Frederick would undoubtedly enable a patient and sagacious person to make a discovery which is indispensable if he would effect a cure. Confident that an implacable animosity has already taken deep root in Frederick's heart, I ask myself by what strange anomaly he can be a prey to such a deplorable weakness.'" "But who is this man who seems to know my son better than I do myself,--this man whose penetration frightens me; for it has proved more correct, much more correct than you suppose." "This man," replied the doctor, sadly, "is a man who has suffered much, seen much, and observed much. That is the secret of his remarkable penetration." Madame Bastien resumed her reading of the letter. "'You have told me, my friend, that Frederick has arrived at what you call the transition period, an epoch of life which is often extremely critical and accompanied with grave physical disturbances. "'Frederick may be strongly affected by these conditions and consequently a prey to feelings which are the more powerful by reason of their very novelty, on account of his mother's close supervision and the salutary influence she has exerted over him up to this time. And how could even Madame Bastien's affection and prudence guard against a danger which neither she nor her son apprehended? She must have been quite as unprepared as her son for the violent passion which seems to have taken possession of him. No, even this judicious and devoted mother has no more cause for regret than if her child had been attacked with measles or some other childish disease.'" "Don't you entirely agree with my friend in this?" inquired the doctor, "I mean in relation to not blaming yourself for the present state of affairs."